


Of Guardians and Space

by G_the_G



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Baby Groot (Marvel), Drax Is A Good Friend, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I Am Groot (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 11:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14448633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G_the_G/pseuds/G_the_G
Summary: Baby Groot has a lot of learning to do, especially when everything he's known up to that point goes sideways and down a black hole.





	1. Space Tailor

**Author's Note:**

> A couple moments in the life of Baby Groot during and soon after Guardians of the Galaxy 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reavers have need for many on their crew. A tailor is just one of them.

The tailor sat in his area, quietly stitching together the boots he’d been working on for himself for months. Between new crew members that joined up and old crew members that ruined their suits, he hadn’t had a moment to work on his own gear in quite some time. It never helped that half the time he’d get started on a suit for a new crew member just to have them quit, die, or get jettisoned into space.

“Feckless bunch of space scum, if you ask me,” he muttered to himself.

There was no one around to hear his comment, and that was just how liked it. His solitary space was cramped and had leather bits, zippers, and all assortment of items piled and spilling over every surface. But it wasn’t covered in Thanos knew what, no one else could touch it, and hardly anyone ever came near since it was in the third quadrant. It was his.

“And it better stay that way if this lot wants to stay in their gear.”

Earlier the crew had gone out, once again chasing after that confounded Quill. The tailor doubted they’d catch him this time. They hadn’t any of the others. But while every other trip they’d come back empty-handed, this mission they’d caught someone. Not Quill, but someone. Or something to be more accurate. With the comments going around, the tailor had also heard there’d been a change in command. Not that it made much difference to him. He’d had worse bosses than Yondu. And it didn’t matter much to his place on the ship anyway. While he’d been occasionally called on to help out with his rusty navigation skills, the tailor had no talent with a gun, so he’d kept to himself. They hadn’t wanted him for his shooting skills anyway.

No. The ravagers were some of the damnedest picky privateers when it came to their gear and suits. Insignia here, stitching there, red leather everywhere. The tailor sometimes swore his hands would never be the same color again from having to special die the stuff. He’d heard tell that other packs of Ravagers wore black. Sensible color black. Even the shittiest of outposts carried black. But no. These guys wanted leather the deep color of rust mixed with blood.

“Damn prima donnas.”

A clatter came from down the corridor, followed by the hoots and hollers that could only mean his services would be required. With a sigh, the tailor set aside his boots and waited for the exultant party to reach his doorway.

“Tailor! We got ourselves a new one. Need him some real Ravager gear.”

The tailor looked about the group that had amassed, but didn’t see a new body that wasn’t already covered in his own work. But then he noticed the squirming stick that the lead goon held in his hand. It was struggling, no doubt both for freedom and to get away from the stench that he was surrounded by; tailor wasn’t exactly sure when these men had last bathed. As it prepared to bite the hand holding him, a brave endeavor considering what was probably on it, tailor’s face twitched with a rare smile.

“AH! Damn this thing! I’m starting to think Taserface was wrong. Maybe we should just kill it.”

Rolling his eyes, tailor stepped forward to take the creature. “Just leave it with me, I’ll let you know when his suit is complete.” He was gentle when holding him, and the squirming stopped, so he stood there, waiting for the group to disperse.

After a couple of grumbles, and a couple of glares at the small thing, they turned and made their way back down the corridor, somewhat quieter than when they had come.

“Since those idiots have gone, let’s see what’s what.”

Tailor set what he now recognized to be a flora colossus down on the work table and stepped back to begin planning. However his latest project began running to the edge of the table, no doubt planning on escape.

“I’d ‘preciate it if you didn’t run. Makes eyeballing measurements more difficult.”

At the edge of the workspace, it turned, eyes questioning.

“I am Groot?”

“Course I’m not gonna hurt you. I just make the clothes around here.”

“I  _am_ Groot?”

“Why wouldn’t I understand you?”

Groot, as tailor now figured he was known, turned away from the edge of the table and sat down in a heap.

“I am  _Groot_.” His defeated tone only added to the slump of his shoulders and hanging limbs.

“I know they’re terrible. But like I said, I just make the clothes.”

There was a petulant humph. “I am  **Groot**.”

“Well you are adorable. They at least had that right.”

Groot sat up a little straighter. “I am Groot.”

“You’re welcome.” Tailor nodded. “Now, what did you have in mind for your uniform?”

“ _I_  am Groot?”

“If you don’t have the gear, you’re not a Ravager. Make things easier on yourself, just go ‘long with it.”

“I am  _Groot_.”

“Might not matter to you, but it does for these guys.” Tailor began examining again, planning. Lots of textures, a couple of pointless straps, maybe some lacing. That should keep ‘em satisfied. “How fast do you grow?”

“I am Groot.”

Tailor nodded, not surprised. “I’ll make the suit a bit big, that way you can grow into it for a while before I gotta make another one.” And with that, he turned and began rummaging through piles to find what he needed. Groot sat where he had sunk down on the table, moping. It was both adorable and depressing. Something needed to be done.

“You hungry?”

The small wooden head perked up. “I  **am** Groot!”

“Right, of course. That drawer over there?” the tailor paused, pointing to the only drawer on the far side of room, “I got some snacks in there. Help yourself.” He went back to the leather scraps he thought might work best, picking the right textures and thickness.

“ _I_  am Groot?”

He turned to see Groot, on the wrong side of the room, holding a bag of high tensile thread.

“No! I said the drawer over there. How did you wind up in that cupboard?”

Groot only shrugged.

“Right. I should have remembered you guys and your memories. Just go back to the table. I’ll get the snacks.”

He fetched the bag of food, set it next to where Groot had settled, and then began getting to work. He stitched together what he could using the machine, but since the tiny creature was a bit smaller than his usual customers, he was forced to hand-stitch a fair deal. And despite his usual tendency for silence, he found himself talking to Groot as he went.

“And after that I was working in a shop on Xandar. If there’s anyone that cares as much as these guys about how they look, it’s Nova Corps. Pompous windbags.”

“I am Groot?”

“Eh, I’m not much for staying still. And I got into a spot of trouble that meant I had to get out of there pretty fast.”

“I am Groot.”

“You too, huh? How much is your bounty worth these days? Forty thousand units?”

Groot began to fidget, then answered much more quietly. “I am Groot.”

The tailor burst out laughing. “I should have known!” he cut off with a another round of chuckles. “A freaking Guardian of the Galaxy.”

The subject of his laughter folded his arms, bark turning down in a frown. “ **I**   **am Groot**.”

Still working his way through a couple chortles, tailor straightened up and got back to work. “No need to be prickly. I just didn’t realize I was serving a right hero.”

The two settled into companionable silence as the tailor continued stitching. With his nimble fingers, the suit was soon done and he held it up for Groot to inspect.

“I  ** _am_** Groot.”

“I know you don’t want to wear it, but it’d be better if you did.”

With a sigh, Groot took the suit and put it on, shoulders drooping as he stood there, feet shuffling. And tailor almost felt what little sympathy he had left in his body go out to him, knowing what was coming next.

“Things are ‘bout to get rough. These guys have a questionable sense of what to do when welcoming new recruits. And I can only imagine what it’ll be like with Yondu out.” He stepped forward and squatted down to look Groot in the eyes. “If I could help, I would, but it’d probably only make it worse for the both of us.”

His new friend nodded slowly. “I am Groot.”

“I made sure to add some extra padding in the lining. I don’t know if you guys feel any pain, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

Groot’s eyes began looking a tad too wet for tailor’s comfort, but before he could discourage any waterworks, the small tree came rushing forward to latch onto him in a hug. That last bit of sympathy he’d been thinking about welled up and he felt himself raising his hand to gently return the hug. After a couple moments, he heard the door at the far end of the corridor open, and knew the welcoming committee had come back despite his not telling them he was finished. He gave Groot one last pat on the back and then set him down on the floor.

“Good luck out there.”

Groot nodded. “ **I am Groot!** ”

Tailor laughed. “Right. Give ‘em hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna stop by, I'm [awww-brain-no](http://awww-brain-no.tumblr.com/) in the old tumblr lands.


	2. Remembered Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metaphors may be beyond Drax, but pain isn't.

Drax woke suddenly, air catching in his throat. Despite his comrades’ complaints about snoring and loud sleeping, there was never a moment when he was not alert. And something had woken him. While he was loathe to give up the dream he’d been partaking in, he determined to figure out what noise had reached him and determine if it was a threat. Hovat would come to him in sleep once more. **  
**

The sounds of his boots on the grate walkways echoed hollowly through the silent ship. But there, he heard the sound again. A low growl that changed in pitch to a near-scream. It came from the creature’s berth. It was quiet after the vocal outburst, but Drax recognized the sounds of fretful sleep that followed. It would be easy to return to his own rest. He far preferred to save his strength, let his shipmates face their internal struggles on their own as he did. Yet he did not leave.

After a moment of stillness, he took his hands from his hips and entered his friend’s sleeping quarters. Unlike himself, the creature did not wake merely sensing the presence of another nearby. It merely continued to toss about where it lay. There were remnants of vines and branches surrounding him, haphazardly aimed at what could only have been imagined or remembered danger.

Drax stepped forward, bending to reach out with one finger and poke at his friend.

“Groot.”

He did not wake, so he poked more firmly.

“Friend, you are dreaming.”

It sat up with a howl, shooting vines blindly. Drax easily dodged them, stepping to the side until his friend realized it was he who stood there. After a few moments, the small creature calmed, turning to face away as it sat, head hung low to its chest.

“I am  ** _Groot_**.”

“Yes, I recognized the signs of troubled dreams. What bothers you?”

“ **I**  am  _Groot_.”

At the mention of Ego’s planet, Drax sat on the bed as well. It was something few of them mentioned by choice.

“That was months ago,” he said. But despite his words, he knew that he himself was still uneasy at the memory of being trapped in the depths of Ego’s mind.

His friend’s shoulders drooped, a low whine escaping from him. A sense of defeat and fear that Drax understood well.

With no other ideas or words, he lifted the small creature and held him to his shoulder, cradling the puny, wooden body with his large hand. Out of habit, he began to rock and sing the melody he had sung to his own Kamaria years ago. His voice was rough but the tune still came true. He sang until the small limbs he supported relaxed and then hung loose. He sang until he heard the quiet sounds of sleep from his companion. He sang until he lost himself to his own bittersweet dreams once again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna stop by, I'm [awww-brain-no](http://awww-brain-no.tumblr.com/) in the old tumblr lands.


End file.
